Ace Joseph Cardona is a young adult writer who has been writing poetry since elementary school. Helping Ace to cope from his brutal experience from childhood psychological trauma which include years of repeated sexual abuse by his older siblings, physical and emotional abuse by his mother while being neglected . Ace suffers from Complex PTSD, Suicidal thoughts and depression, he started to write poetry as an outlet and a way for ace to express his emotions through visual context. Even though he suffers mentally everyday, Ace tries to make the most of it work through his writing. He has no contact with neither side's of his family but does currently resides in Transitional Housing by himself. Ace has not written or published any books at the moment.

​THE LETTER I WROTE TO HER

​As I sit here outside in front of a school I don't belong to, I think of you. I think of the words I would like to say to you and this is the letter I began to type to you momma;

I take a pull of these toxic cigarettes thinking it can relieve some type of stress or pain while listening to the song " Family Portrait " By P!nk. I know I can't continue to go on like this, I know I will never be happy knowing that the blood that flows through my veins I wish for you to desperately see. I wish you can see how much i hurt for you momma, I have so many questions to ask you but I know they won't never be answered. I don't know why my heart beats so much for you but it does; I wish you could hear me, I wish you can see the pain you once endure on me, I still have to suffer through everyday. I can't sleep at night without waking up in constant pain from your abuse, I wake up crying, shaking, screaming in pain. Coughing up what I believe is to be blood is just the pain I can't no longer bare with and sits at the pit of my stomach.It all has become too much for me to stand, I try to fight but the battle has taken a toll to a war so much more. I don't have the right weapons to fight for it anymore, I have gave it my all for the past 21 year's but this is actually out of my control at this point

I have tried so many options to cope from; alcohol, to drug, from drugs to hospitals, from hospitals, to different therapists every other week. Yet nothing seem to be working for me momma because the only thing I need and want is for you to LOVE ME, to see ME... You treated me like a stranger that came into your life for a temporary being, you treated me like a monster that has to wears a costume to scare off the strangers, you treated me like a prisoner that deserved to punished for a crime that wasn't committed As I sneak out of the placements I know I can't call home, all I want to do is run. I want to run from the pain, I want to run from the intrusive memories, I want to run from the constant feeling of wanting you in my life. But I can't run momma, I can't run from you because you are apart of me no matter if I WANT it or NOT, you are ...Your abusive ways left me in fear, while i had put myself in situation and places I thought was OK but it wasn't.I go to therapy and bring up the remainder of feelings you left me with like: the pain , the betrayal, the neglect, the hands that gave me life. Never once gave me a gentle hug and told me it was going to be ok, I sit here at this dining table in my one unit apartment and continue typing. I try to think of questions to ask you, but the only things that runs through my mind is " WHY"? It might seem like a blank questions, but the blanks are left for you to fill in as I know they will always remain empty.

I try to look for so many ways out momma, I try to push the thought of self - harming away but the eager feeling gets stronger. I don't know what led for you to treat me this way, as my therapist tries to tell me maybe you had a bad childhood yourself… Is it true momma, did you have a bad childhood? This question runs through my mind as well. Maybe your choice's is what led you to hate me because you saw a reflection of you looking back in me? I can't cry anymore momma, my tears have become stale from filling up so many buckles for the past 21 year's , I have no more left to give. I think about you as I make fake social media accounts to spy on you and see if your ok .You see, part of me still cares for you regardless on what your feelings are towards me and part of me hates you and tries to pilot on revenge to hurt you, but I can't . And I won't hurt you, because I only crave for you to love me ... It hurts when I think you're sad, it hurts knowing you're getting older and all I want is for you to say " I'm Sorry " and I know this will never be true for the moments that continue to pass by. No one will understand the love I have for you, I can repeat my trauma so many times that it starts to cause physical and more mental pain. Leading to different parts of me to come out and take over crying as well. I sit on this cold bathroom floor and continue to type every word and every feeling I have towards you, while the song from P!nk is still on repeat. I want to fight, I want to hit, I want break down and cry constantly knowing the holidays will be coming up soon.I want to just drape a dark cloth over my face and escape to a favorite place I always wanted to go to. But where would that be momma? What favorite place would that actually be? Maybe the hospitals? Maybe the restraints I was always put in because I didn't know how to deal with my anger in mental asylums? Or maybe to heavy medications where i was inject with to become more numb? Or the dark nights where I was constantly sexually abused by the hands that knew they could get away with it because they were mommies favorite boy's?

I sit here as my heart beats fast and drown in the words that P!nk sings in her song: Family Portrait. " Can we work it out? Can we be a family, I promise I'll be better mommy I'll do anything ..." As I end this letter